Return Of The Abandoned Wife

Six

I walked to the closet and pulled out the old suitcase, the same one I brought with me the day I stepped into this house as Jaxon Reed’s wife. It still smelled faintly of lavender and a past I had tried so desperately to preserve. The zipper was a little stiff, probably from months of disuse, but it eventually gave way, like everything else in my life. Slowly, I began to pack.

Just the essentials.

I picked the clothes I had brought into this marriage, simple, comfortable, familiar. None of the designer dresses I’d been forced to wear to charity galas or board dinners. They didn’t belong to me, not really. They belonged to her, the version of me I had molded to fit into Jaxon’s world. The woman I became for his sake, for the sake of a love that never had a chance to bloom.

I folded each item with care. My hands trembled as I tucked in the blouse I wore the first time I served tea to Mrs. Reed. I could still hear her warm laughter as she took a sip, complimenting my gentle hands and steady grace.

“She reminds me of myself,” she once told Jaxon’s aunt. “Too soft-hearted, too hopeful. That’s a dangerous combination in this family.”

I smiled faintly at the memory and continued packing.

In the top drawer of my dresser, I found the scarf Mrs. Reed gave me on my birthday. It was soft blue silk, the kind of luxury I never imagined owning. It wasn’t the gift that touched me, but the way she draped it over my shoulders with motherly affection. “You deserve beautiful things, Mary Jane,” she had said. “Even if you don’t believe it yet.”

I folded it carefully and placed it in the suitcase. Then I reached for the two photographs on my vanity. One of me and Mrs. Reed in the sunroom, both of us laughing, her hand cradling my cheek. And the other is our wedding photo. Jaxon and I. He looked stiff and impassive, his eyes avoiding the camera. I was smiling, foolishly, like a woman caught up in a fantasy. I touched the glass gently. So much had changed since that day.

So much had shattered.

I debated going upstairs to say goodbye to Mrs. Reed, but I knew I couldn’t. Not without breaking down. Not without her calling Jaxon and demanding explanations. She would scold him, possibly threaten him, and that would only make things worse. He would resent me more, accuse me of turning her against him. I couldn’t bear that. I’d rather leave quietly than make things uglier than they already were.

The suitcase was full now, but it felt like I’d packed nothing at all.

Just memories.

I sat down on the bed and looked around the room. It was beautiful in a cold, impersonal way. Cream-colored walls, dark wooden floors, expensive curtains that barely moved in the breeze. Everything in this room had Jaxon’s stamp on it. Minimalist, efficient, devoid of emotion. Just like him.

I pressed my hand to my chest. It hurt to breathe. I had spent three years trying to be a wife to a man who didn’t want me. I had twisted myself into someone I thought he could maybe, just maybe, love. But in the end, I had only lost myself.

The tears came before I could stop them.

Heavy, ugly sobs that tore through my chest and made my throat ache. I tried to muffle them with my hand, not wanting anyone to hear me, not even the staff. They had seen me at my most composed. I didn’t want them to see me broken.

I cried for the girl who once believed that love could conquer anything.

I cried for the woman I had become, lonely, tired, and invisible in her own marriage.

I cried because I still loved him.

And maybe that was the cruelest part of it all.

He had treated me like I was nothing, yet my heart had clung to every scrap of affection, every glance, every accidental touch that hinted he didn’t hate me entirely. I lived off crumbs, convinced they were a feast.

But no more.

I stood up, wiping my face with the back of my sleeve. I walked over to the nightstand and took out a pen and a piece of paper to write a note to Mrs. Reed. I didn’t have the courage to face or even give it to her. I read it one last time before placing it on the nightstand:

Dear Mrs. Reed,

You were the light in the darkest season of my life. I don’t know if I would’ve made it without your kindness, your strength, and your belief in me. Please forgive me for leaving without a goodbye. If I saw you now, I’d never be able to walk away. And I have to walk away. For me. I love you with all my heart. Thank you for everything.

Love,

Mary Jane

It was the least I could do.